Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1887-04-22
Welded TO BUSINESS.
BY MRS. NJ. L. RAYNE.

"We don't have to worry about girls,
thank goodness" David Atwood said to
his acquaintances when they complained
OF the kitchen despot; my wife does her
own work"
He was tipped back in an open chair
while he talked, and looked the comfort
able, prosperous business man he was.
II run my end of the work." he con-
tlnued, ''and my wife runs hers, so we
get on all right"
Then he stepped over to see chum in
another office, and chatted on politics
until dinner time, when he went home.
1t only took him fifteen minutes to eat
dinner, then he had nap. His little
daughter had usually eaten and gone to
school when he came. She knew her
father by sight. That was about ALL
His wife was always busy making home
comfortable for him. 1t took her the
whole forenoon to cook dinner for him,
and she walked miles, mechanical motion,
from the pantry to the dining-room, and
back again.
Sometimes she sang as she worked.
She liked to hear human voice.
Pinnedup near the clock was this psalm
of life, which she sometimes stopped to
read, while she waited dinner for David.
1t sounded good.
Forenoon aud afternoon and night-fore-
noon and afternoon and night-forenoon and
what!
The empty song repeats itself. No more;
| yea that is life; make this forenoon sublime
This afternoon psalm, this night PRAYER
| And Tina ic nnpnnoral Z fh1 &c
won.
David said he couldn't see any sense in
it, but his wife thought it rested her in
some way to read it.
That David Atwood was supremely self
ish never occurred to Mrs. Atwood's
husband, His wife never went anywhere
but she was a free agent--she could have
gone, if she had wanted to.
Wilkie Collins, in one of his minor
novels, has a man who says to his wife, in
answer to her solicitations:
"You don't want to travel You won't
like it. Inever do"
When she suggested sea voyage, he
said:
"You won't like the water. You'll be
sea-sick. always ann
Mrs. Atwood was not a complaining
woman. She would have liked as much
attention as good cook gets, but her
excellent meals were eaten and never
discussed. Once her husband said to his
confidential friend:
"My wife makes elegant coffee and the
best pies ever ate anywhere, but be-
tween you and me I'd rather run around
to Smacks and take cup of bouillon and
a sandwich, than to sit down to the best
table ever saw"
Such is the ingratitude of men and re-
publics.
"Atwood must be getting rich," the
neighbors said.
He was. Some day he intended to
move into larger house, but as things
were running smoothly, he invested his
money safely, and took things easy.
He did not even notice that his wife
was getting old. He would have laughed
at the idea.
But one day neighbor asked the little
girl if her mothers hair wasn't getting
white on top.
The child said she didn't know. She
wasn't tall enoughsto see, and her mother
never found time to sit down.
The truth came to David Atwood by &
strange revelation.
His wife had once or twice complained
of needing some rest and recreation, asd
he had suggested that she hire girl.
Now, the rest had come.
She, who never sat down, or ceased thS
monotonous grind of life for a moment
was lying here in the best parlor among
the pictures and books she had busted
every day, with no thought of any house
hold cares to trouble her.
He could hear his little daughter cry
ing above stairs. If his own heart hac
not been broken, he could have sorrowec
for her, who had lost her best friend.
He was holding his wife's hand 1t wa
cold and unresponsive His hot tear
falling upon it awakened no sensation
Oh, how much good it would have done
her poor tired heart ii he had occasional
ly held her hand in that love-like clasI
when she was alive
Now it was too late.
How was it that they had drifted 81